I do not want to end like the old mariner grabbing
people to listen to his story at the sunset of his life. I want it that at the
end of the day I rest assured that I have rowed my river and handed on to my
children the lessons I have learned in my journey upstream to the House of the
Father. So I made, early on, a solemn vow, that I would immerse my four
daughters into situations that allow them to know and love the God of Jesus of
Nazareth. Sadly, like most promises, mine was half-heartedly kept.
I can justify why I kept on failing. I was trained and
educated to find reasons to the things I do. I have a lot of excuses; all of
them are sound and rational. Yet honestly, they are like wicker baskets—they hold
stones and boulders but not water. The truth of the matter is although I was
raised a Catholic, (I even had seven years of formation in the seminary) I am
struggling with my faith given my entanglement with Sartrean Existentialism
vis-à-vis the clash of orientations at the local church. Every day I wake up confronted with the
question of meaning and automatically finds myself forcing to pray to the God
whose existence I keep on questioning.
Perhaps, my former parish priest senses the civil war
raging inside of me and the growing apathy deep within that he keeps on
disturbing me in my complacency. Just the other day, when the family was
preparing for the Angelus, the monsignor came knocking at my door. He came
bearing what he considered good news. He excitedly related that it appears the
Division Office of the Department of Education is now adopting a policy
concerning the 90-minute religious instruction per the 1997 Constitution. The
move is supportive of his catechetical program in Batan (Aklan).
The monsignor has pioneered in the Diocese of Kalibo a
community-owned school-based catechetical program. The program, like a mustard
seed, is silently thriving and gaining strong support among small communities
in the whole municipality of Batan. Without wishing to, it is fast becoming
part of the mainstream society that policy makers are giving it a second look.
It started small. The parish priest and his coadjutors simply and consistently
celebrated the Eucharist in the barrio chapels monthly. Then slowly, they
encouraged parents and ordinary teachers to hear masses in schools too. Soon
enough the team of three priests finds themselves busy saying masses and
attending community and PTA meetings. At
present, each of them has more or less 13 masses a week, not to mention funeral
and wedding masses and community meetings.
The communities became articulate. They
demanded that the local schools afford their children their right to religious
instruction as provided for in the Philippine Constitution. Equally, the
ordinary government teachers heeded the call and volunteered themselves as
instant catechists, despite their lack of training and to most, experience in
catechesis. Thus begin the community-initiated school-based catechetical
program that the Diocese is now gearing up to replicate in other
parishes. Presently, the teachers who responded to the call number to
about 200 more or less. They have received specialized trainings from the
Institute of Religion of the University of Sto. Tomas (UST-IR) and had been
certified by it as professional catechists. They catechized their pupils and
students voluntarily as their token of gratitude to the communities that have
supported them all along and as a response to the call they heard on the
"Road to Damascus." Modules on New Catechism in Akeanon dialect
are being developed with the assistance of the Diocesan Catechetical Ministry.
The multiplication of the bread is one ordinary yet
wonderful miracle in Batan. One can note such reality in their breaking of
bread whenever a communal affair takes place, say a seminar on catecheses or a
Sunday Mass in their tiny chapel. A peninsular agro-fishing community harboring
Batan Bay and facing the Sibuyan Sea, it prided itself of the richness not only
of its natural resources but also of its history, heritage and culture. The
Augustinian missionaries who interacted with the locals in 1600’s as narrated
in Apuntes Historicos of Fray Juan
Fernadez, OSA were impressed of their highly cultured and communitarian manner.
He writes of this impression on Batangnons being:
“…the most noble in the Archipelago, a highly-cultured group
with
well built beautiful
houses and many
well-organized
villages…”
(p. 275)
The
friars further noted that they were neither wild nor refractory. The memory of
the race perhaps remains intact in the consciousness of the present generation
that they positively responded to the initiative of their parish priest and
readily regarded the program as their own and give it their all-out support. Personally, I believe God is working wonderfully
on the openness and generosity of these people most of whom had long been
“unchurched” and marginalized by the mainstream society that typically
represented the institutional church. I
had witnessed the transformation from their being indifferent Catholics to what
are now budding witnesses and active members of Basic Ecclesial Communities. I
am neighbor to them. By parentage, I am Batangnon too. As a child, I used to
roam around the fishpond on my grandfather in Sitio Pinamunitan, Barangay Lalab
and had known the saga of Kagiyaw along the meandering waters of the Jal-o and
the legend of how Lalab got its name.
Precisely that I always take it as an opportunity to be of
service—though in my own little way—to the Batangnon communities everytime Msgr.
Frac asked me to write something related to his pastoral works. I consider it
my role being part of the One Body of Christ made manifest in Batan BECs. To
me, I am merely a follower of Christ Jesus and a servant of God. What I have
had accomplished are my duties and for that I expect neither a reward nor
gratitude. The outpouring of help coming
from the members of the community every time an event takes place either in the
Parish or in the schools or chapels are manifestations of this understanding
that each faithful is merely doing her/his duty in this brotherhood of ours in
Christ Jesus. They are one with the whole Body of Christ. They see themselves
as the Church.
The multiplication of bread in Batan
is one miracle that calls on me to reach out my left hand and thrust it on the
bleeding wounds of the risen Jesus. But the fact that in Batan there are small
communities regarding themselves as the Church despite their poverty is one
miracle that tells me that God has pitched his tent in their midst to dwell
with them. Indeed, as St. Ireneus used to say, their very existence is joy, A
MIRACLE OF GOD!
The presence of my former parish
priest in my house is an encounter rich with meaning and graces not only for me
but most importantly for my family. I pray therefore that he may keep on
disturbing us in our complacency that we may always be restless until we rest
on the bosom of our Father in a New Heaven and a New Earth.
